Do You Hear the People Sing?
by swAhILi2011
Summary: Les Misérables X-over. Arthur didn't know how they had gotten mixed up in this, why he'd listened to Alfred and his insatiable American urge for freedom, and now they were behind the barricade, listening for the assault that they knew would be the last


"I hate you."

Alfred smiled wanly, shaking his head and leaning his head back against the table that they had used as part of the barricade, the barricade that they knew wouldn't last another barrage from the National Guard. They had lost so many already…but he and Arthur were still there, they were still alive, if only for now. His smile was almost sombre now, and he took Arthur's hand in his, twining their fingers together and resting his head on his shoulder.

"You don't mean that."

Arthur just turned to look at him, sighing and nodding, squeezing Alfred's hand a bit.

"No, I don't…even if you got us into this mess, I could never hate you, Alfred…"

"Even if we die today?" Alfred whispered, and he jumped when Arthur abruptly smacked his cheek, making him jolt completely upright again. His large eyebrows were drawn together, but Alfred could have sworn his eyes looked moist in the faint dawn light.

"Don't go talking like that, Alfred! We're not going to die, do you hear me?"

"Francis is already dead, Arthur." Alfred said softly, ignoring the looks they were getting from Arthur's outburst. Everyone else had been abnormally silent and subdued, even their strong leader Enjolras had no more to say, although he was among the few who seemed to still be strong, who hadn't lost hope that they could at least count for something. Alfred just gazed at Arthur, his blue eyes wide and fearful behind his spectacles. "Arthur, none of us is going to make it out of here, can't you see that? W-we're going to die…we're just children, Artie. How could they do this?"

"Speak for yourself." Arthur said wryly-at twenty-three Arthur was most certainly an adult, but Alfred was a month shy of nineteen, cheeks still clinging onto his baby fat, his blue eyes sparkling with innocence and youth. Arthur felt an ache in his heart just thinking about those cerulean eyes glazed over in death, once lively hands stilled, hands that always gestured wildly when he told stories of his homeland…Arthur took a deep breath, having to look down at the ground to keep himself from crying. He had always hated seeing Alfred upset, ever since they had first met when Alfred's parents died and he came over to France to continue his studies. Alfred just leaned back onto him, his normally cheerful tone soft and subdued.

"You're young, Arthur…we all are. I just…I don't know how they could do this, kill so senselessly, all because these people want freedom. This isn't what freedom is like, freedom is happy, it isn't slaughter."

"Alfred…but freedom is something you have to fight for, is it not? Isn't that what your people did?"

"But this isn't a fair fight!" Alfred said, keeping his voice low so the others didn't hear him. "We never had a chance…we're schoolboys, Arthur, we've spent most of our lives in our books. The people didn't want this, they…they didn't ask for us to rise up for them, they didn't come to help. We're on our own now…and we're going to die."

"Alfred, just stop this! This isn't like you, y-you're never the one who gives up. What about being a hero? What about protecting people, standing up for what's right?"

"I'm scared, okay!" Alfred finally cried, burying his face in Arthur's shirt to muffle his voice, and Arthur could feel his hands trembling now, feeling a wet patch on his shoulder, and he felt pity well in his heart. Alfred had, up to this point, always been one of the strong ones, the one who would always proclaim that he was the hero, that he would watch out for everyone, that he would help bring freedom to the people. To see him lose hope, to suddenly lose that naïveté that Arthur had always scolded him for, yet secretly found endearing, that belief that he could make a change, that he could make the world a better place if he tried hard enough. But all of that had been stripped aside and now he was just simply a child, afraid of dying…afraid of losing that chance. Arthur turned so that he was facing Alfred, cupping his cheeks and tilting his chin up, wiping the tears away with his thumbs.

"Alfred, love, it's okay to be scared…but even if we die today, it won't be for nothing, alright? People will remember this, we will stand as an example…isn't that what you've been saying all this time? You wanted to be an inspiration, for these people to look up to?"

"What kind of inspiration is a nineteen year old American fool who gets himself killed?" Alfred whispered, and then Arthur threw caution to the wind and pressed his lips against Alfred's. He didn't care what everyone else thought about two men kissing, if these were his last moments with his American hero then he was going to do what he'd wanted to do for several years now, to show him the feelings he'd been ashamed of and hidden away. When he felt the slight pressure of Alfred kissing back he almost burst into tears, because he had been so afraid of being rejected, of Alfred thinking he was disgusting and pushing him away, but he hadn't. When they drew back from each other Arthur kept his hand on Alfred's cheek, the other blinking his blues eyes open again to look at Arthur, his eyes still glistening slightly. Arthur just gave him a small, sad smile and brushed his thumb over Alfred's cheek lightly.

"You don't have to say anything, love…just…I wanted you to know, before we d-died." His voice caught on the word, but he was still smiling as he rested his forehead on Alfred's. "You've always been a hero to me, you've always been so strong and passionate, and I love that about you…I love everything about you, Alfred. You mean so much to me, and to everyone, and…I don't think what we've done will ever be forgotten. At least if I die, I could die with you…"

Alfred stared at him, and then Arthur noticed his lower lip quivering and his eyes tearing up before Alfred tugged him closer to press another kiss to his lips. He could feel the wet tears dripping onto his cheeks, but he didn't care, simply kissing the other back, blocking from his mind where they were, and what was happening, and focusing only on Alfred. By the time they'd pulled apart his cheeks were wet with his own tears as well, and he looped his arms around Alfred's neck, pulling him into a tight hug, and he felt Alfred's arms wrapping around his waist. They sat that way for what seemed like hours, although Arthur knew it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, and then he heard the faintest of whispers by his ear.

"I love you, Arthur…I really do, I just wish that I'd told you, before now…"

"At least you told me, yeah?" Arthur smiled slightly, shutting he eyes and squeezing Alfred tightly. "I love you as well, Alfred, and no matter what happens today, that will always remain."

Alfred squeezed Arthur even tighter, enough to make his back crack and borderline painful, but he didn't care, because he was hugging him just as tightly. They sat there, clinging onto each other until they heard the sounds of approaching footsteps, and the National Guard cocking their guns and there was a shout from their side to get ready. They all fought valiantly, using the guns until there was no ammo, and then using them simply for the bayonets or a few even as clubs to try and fend off their attackers. Arthur had a cut to his side that was bleeding, and Alfred had stepped forward immediately to shield him, shooting off the last of the rounds just as the retreat was called, and Alfred grabbed Arthur's arm and tugged him back toward the Café. They were almost there when there was a resounding crash as the middle section of the barricade fell, and the National Guardsmen started pouring inside, one of the rounds catching Alfred right in the should, another in his back, and sending him crashing to the ground, Arthur falling with him. He landed heavily, crying out in pain, his beautiful features twisted in agony. Arthur gasped, clinging onto his hand tightly and the other touching his face, looking down at the blood that was now pooling on the ground beneath him.

"Alfred! Alfred, no, th-this can't be happening, you…"

"I t-told you…this was going to happen…sorry, Art, I…love…" Alfred choked, and Arthur noticed the blood at the corner of his mouth. He leaned down, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pressed a quick kiss to those dry lips, already getting colder. Alfred just looked up at him, one lens of his spectacles cracked and smudged-Arthur refused to register the way those once sparkling blue eyes had started losing life, had grown dim. The hand he was holding had gone limp, but Arthur still didn't let go, instead lacing his fingers with Alfred's now stilled ones, fingers that would never pick up another pen…he was sobbing uncontrollably now, and all the chaos around him had been tuned out. He didn't notice a soldier approaching until he felt a sharp pain in his head and then…blissful nothingness.

When the bodies were collected the two were still laying together, hands still locked together in an almost eerie fashion, in a way that made it look like Arthur had simply fallen asleep on Alfred's chest, his eyes closed and his expression peaceful. They were buried together, since the man who found them, having taken no part in the slaughter, felt only pity for the two lovers. They were laid to rest in the cemetery, holding the other's hand until the end of time.


End file.
